Overtwins
by Hells True Mistress
Summary: What if there were two overlords, twins, a brother and sister. A series of peeks into the live's of She-wolf and Witch-boy. (Rating may change to M)
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Disclaimed**

 **This fic takes place shortly before the beginning of Overlord 2. It was written as a writing exercise and is in first-person, present tense.**

 **WARNING: contains mentions of the rape of a minor.**

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I sigh in relief, having finally found her behind some of the village houses, in a small quart yard filled with boxes and fireworks. Her face is hidden under her wolf skin hood and her young figure clad in improvised - and now badly torn - fur armor.

"She-wolf?" I call to her, announcing my presence, my voice heavy with concern. Her body tenses, taunt muscles rippling under her dark ash-blue skin. She is badly hurt, covered in bruises harsh enough to be clearly visible despite her dark complexion, blood oozing from the various lacerations that decorated her small body - not small for a child, but small compared to the robust village men that had done this to her.

"She-wolf... are you all right?" It seems a silly question, but it's not her physical state that concerns me, her body heals quickly and well, even splintered bones would settle into place before mending.

"Stay away!" her reply is more a growl than human speech and it is difficult to distinguish words, but I manage to make out what she is saying. Her head snaps towards me and from the shadows of her wolf-head cowl I see her long pointed teeth pulled into a snarl, as well as the bright red glow of her eyes.

Her eyes tell me all I need to know, if they were glowing like that then this was a very dangerous place to be right now. 'I should probably leave..' I think to myself but I quickly push away the thought, I am her friend and she needs me now.

I look into the red light of her eyes and consider what to do next. When she gets like this it is difficult to get her back. The last time it had happened the village children had been harassing her and her brother, then her eyes flashed the same red that they were now and she set upon them. In the end she had killed two of them and maimed several others before Witch-boy - her brother - finally managed to stop her, allowing the children to retreat through the village gates.

I shudder at the memory, having witnessed the entire ordeal from the safety of the village walls. Shortly after that was the first time I approached them directly, naturally my curiosity and concern were met with suspicion but I had always been strangely drawn to the monstrous pair and eventually my offer of friendship was accepted.

Turning my mind to the matter at hand, I slowly advance making certain that it is clear that I am unarmed and mean no harm. "She-wolf, it's me, Kelda." She growls again this time wordlessly. I know her well enough to recognize the fear and hostile self-preservation evident in her stance. I slow my advance, despite her injuries she still has a huge advantage in strength and speed; she could easily tear apart a full grown man with those vicious claws of hers.

I shudder again, realizing that she could have easily defended herself from the village men if there hadn't been so many of them, 'and each one of them probably had their fun...' the thought disgusts me and I have to swallow down bile as I realize that the one responsible is my father, the village chief.

"She-wolf look at me. It's me Kelda, I'm not gonna hurt you. It's me, you can trust me... remember?" recognition flickers across her features and I step forward, now within arms reach. "That's right you know me, don't you? It's Kelda."

At last the red dulls back to its natural faint glow rather than the bright light that marks her almost berserk state.

"K...Kelda...?" her voice has also regained its usual, oddly pleasant, quality.

Finally herself again, she collapses onto me clinging to my coat desperately. She hides her face in my neck - despite being over a head taller than me - and sobs.

She doesn't make any sound louder than a whimper, but I can feel her tears against my skin, soaking into my coat; feel how her silent sobs tear through her wounded body, as she clings to me... And I can do nothing: nothing to lessen her pain; nothing to reassure her that she would be all right. Just like I could do nothing to defend her in the first place.

Her hood fell when she hugged me, revealing her flowing pure-white hair. Frustrated at my own powerlessness I gently stroke her silken mane and return her embrace.

She would never let anyone else see her like this - not even her brother, least of all her brother - so all that I can do now is be here. But I am sure that it is far too little, too late.

That was not the last time that I found her like that, and every time she made me promise not to tell her brother. Every time it was harder to get her back; harder to return those red orbs from a harsh light to their warm glow; harder not to look at the village with absolute hate and disgust. Then, one Midwinter's eve, her and Witch-boy just disappeared.

It was the same Midwinter's Eve that the Empire came.

The same Midwinter's Eve that I, finally, lost all hope in humanity...

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 **Reviews would be welcomed and appreciated.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Disclaimed**

 **This chapter takes place while the minions are raising the Overlord (or Overtwins in this case)**

 **Warnings: Death and mild torture.**

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 **Witch-boy**

I regard the two legged maggots before me, half impressed with these specimen half disgusted with their species. Gnarl stands at a respectful distance awaiting our responses, this is another test, something to make certain that we are worthy. The Nether is yet to accept us as its masters and the elder-minion is still trying to 'groom' us into the perfect Over... over... - I still have not figured that one out.

Sparing my sister a glance, I see a look of anticipation on her face and I suppress a sigh: Gnarl had had these people dragged in while She-wolf and I were sparring, he had said that we were to do as we pleased with these humans. It is the first time that he has done something like this, usually we leave the Nether for his little 'lessons'. This is obviously very significant.

I turn my attention back to the bound humans before me, examining each in turn. Out of the Twelve seven are women, three of which are particularly... tempting. One of the males also draws my attention, but for entirely different reasons, he is strongly built; quite tall for a human; and the excessive amount of chains on his person, as well as the state of the minions who had brought him in, make it clear that his physique is not merely for show. It might be fun to pit him against some wolves, maybe even a dozen or so newborn browns.

"Take them to the dungeons," I say pointing to the three women, "I'll deal with them latter." some of the minions chuckle at that clearly understanding the fate of the females. "And him, to the pit." The pit is a testament two my sister's sadism. She had had the minions carve a two cottage deep arena of sorts from one of the larger lumps of Nether rock orbiting the tower. The thing is huge. The idea had been to watch unfortunate creatures savagely killing each other, but She-wolf usually grows bored and 'intervenes'. I don't care either way.

"What about you, sister?" I turn to ask her, if there are any leaft when she is done they will be given to the minions. She takes a deep breath – her over keen scenes no doubt sampling the air – before a sickening grin crosses her features and bloodthirsty anticipation settles in her red eyes.

"Its fear smells good." She says with a growl, dragging out the last word. The 'it' in question is a young male, no older than us, near the end of the line up. His eyes widen as her attention settles on him and he tries to back away only to have the minion holding his chains yank him forwards.

He stumbles but manages to regain his balance. Turning around, he frantically searches for any means of escape. I can almost taste his relief as he feels the tension on his chains lessen, and hears the whispered command...

"Run."

He needs no further motivation.

 **Poor sod that She-wolf chose**

"Its fear smells good" my stomach drops as the devil says those words, her bloodied eyes fixed on me.

I back away ready to run, but the little demon holding my chains pulls me forward, closer to that monster.

I need to get away. I need to escape! I need to **not be here!** But my captors hold tightly to my heavy chains and I know that there is no hope for me, that is until...

Suddenly my chains go slack as and I hear the firm yet almost silent order "Run." and I do.

Hope, and the raw invigorating will to live, explodes in my chest as I run with all my might. The heavy shackles around my ankles barely slow me down despite their weight, and the equally heavy chain that hangs from my neck slams into my back with every step but I ignore it. My body moves faster than it ever has before, fueled by hope, and fear, and desperation, and utterly ridiculous yet undeniable desire to feel fresh, green, grass beneath my feet just one more time.

But all that disappears in an instant as pain swallows hope, and the dream of grass under foot is replaced by the reality of my back slamming against cold stone. I gasp for breathe, the harsh yank on the chain around my neck having almost crushed my throat.

"P...please..." I wheeze out between gasps, "please..."

"'Please' what?" the devil purrs in my ear, I feel her breath on my cheek and her fingers on my face - gently trailing from my eye, across my cheek and along my jaw.

"please... let me... go..." breathing is still so difficult, maybe she did damage my throat.

"Aww..." she says in mock disappointment. "But where's the fun in that?" she punctuates the last word by digging the claws of her, previously gentle, hand into my collar bone. I try to scream, but I'm too short of breath, I try to pull away but her other hand is on my shoulder - claws finger deep - pinning me in place.

My struggle is desperate but feeble and futile, and I am powerless as the devil slowly destroys my body, my mind and my will.

After hours - or maybe moments: time has lost meaning - of her twisted entertainment, I am numb. I barely hear her her sigh; I _do_ hear her muttering of "This's gotten boring." but the words hold no meaning to me; I don't resist the hand that grips my head; I hardly even register the pain of that hand slowly tightening its grasp.

The last thing I hear before crunch of my own scull collapsing is a disgusted, "Why do humans have to break so easily. It's just pathet - "

 **"CRUNCH"**

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 **Any and all feedback will be read and appreciated. Suggestions/prompts are also welcome.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimed.**

 **Looksee! A Chapter! And you thought I died…**

 **Warnings: none really for this chapter, except maybe some gore... sorry to disappoint.**

 **Kelda:**

 _It's them._

Two figures stride calmly through the wreckage that was the village gates. One is covered in heavy metal plate; a three horned helm adorning his head; sparks of raw ether crackling from his fingertips and flashing in his eyes. Beside him a more feminine figure's furs – she wears no trace of actual armour besides those animal skins – are matted with blood; a snarling wolfs head conceals her face, it's lower jaw unhinged and hanging loosely around her neck while it's eyes are simply gone allowing her own piercing orbs to shine through.

Hordes of excitable goblin like creatures swarm around them, gleefully pillaging and terrorizing. He shouts orders, casts bright blue lightning and swings a battleaxe larger than most men. She weaves between the frantically fighting and fleeing bodies, reveling in their pain and death, tasting their blood – no doubt rich with fear. All the while their creatures follow each command often needing no real prompting or actual order to fulfill their masters' wishes.

 _It_ _ **has**_ _to be them._

His unarmoured arms, rippling with muscle, is the same rich tone as that of the boy in my fondest and most distant memories – a deep copper shade that seems a combination of clay and drying blood. His eyes are that same familiar blue, only now the bolts that springs from his hands dance from them, leaping forth to crackle across his steal cradled face. And though her flesh is hidden under blood and beast hide, the light that shines through her wolfen mask is unmistakable.

The monstrous pair from a lifetime ago

 _Of course it's them._

He conquers the minds of those foolish villagers brave enough to stand before them and sends lightning cascading through the legionaries' ranks until their flesh sears to the inside of their armour, yet he leaves the locals who flee unscathed, even going so far as to ignore any soldiers who lay down their weapons in acceptance of their fate.

His sister gives no such quarter.

She bounds after the fleeing masses and gleefully gives chase to the soldiers who break from the safety of their joined ranks. Her lack of any real armour or weapon doesn't slow her in the slightest as she shreds through shied-formations and she scarcely seems to notice when one of them manage to land a blow.

Borius shouts about something and next I know one of his guards has me by the arm and is dragging me after him. But my eyes don't leave her.

She breaks off from her brother and their little demons to dive through the window of a rather unremarkable house – the Snowdin household I think - moments pass before the front door all but explodes outwards and she drags the screaming residence out into the street. Misses Snowdin receives all the brutal force of a fiercely clawed hand rending her abdomen, the blow propels her several feet, and probably would have sent her even farther, if it wasn't for the stout stone wall that put a swift end to her journey. Her husband just stares dumbly at vivid trail of human innards that leads to the limp corpse of his wife – an insanely inappropriate grin tugs at my mouth as I remember one other snippet of, until now, useless information – and the mother of his unborn child.

He moves to go to her, or perhaps merely to escape from his attacker, he makes it a whole two steps before four fingers sprout from his throat. His own hands go to his neck and he grasps frantically at the offending digits.

I know it's not possible, given the distance, but I swear I can almost hear the flesh tear and the bone crumble as she closes her hand.

She lets his bloodied form fall – head only barely held on his shoulders by a mess of meat – and steps over it to continue her massacre. It's all I want from this world to stay and watch as she bloodies the street further, but Borius's guard pulls me after the pig of a mane, and building rob me of the magnificent view.

The armoured man tugging me by the arm somehow manages to misinterpret my disappointment for fear and his hold on me loosens slightly. He speaks in what he likely thinks is a reassuring tone and tells me that he and his men will protect me and the governor. He says that he'll keep us safe, I only just win the inner battle to hold back a laugh.

 _As if anyone could ever be safe from them._

 **Undertale anyone?**


End file.
